


Heroic Failure

by reflexing



Category: Original Work
Genre: BDSM, Bondage, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Medical Procedures, Object Insertion, Rape Aftermath
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:41:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25080295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reflexing/pseuds/reflexing
Summary: The Corporation is as almost as well known for its bureaucracy as for its villains.  A lead on one of the senior administrators linked to the High Command brings Jackson and his new trainee on an undercover assignment to a BDSM club, but an improbable encounter blows their cover.  Now Jackson has a new, and more difficult, goal: make it out alive and before the villains break his partner.
Relationships: Agents from evil organization noncon captured hero partners
Comments: 6
Kudos: 11
Collections: Nonconathon 2020





	Heroic Failure

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AMintJulep](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AMintJulep/gifts).



_"Are you clear on the parameters of this assignment, gentlemen?"_

_"Yes, sir."_

_"Then you are aware of the stakes if you fail."_

_"With all due respect, Commander, this isn't my first time facing down the Corporation. I know what we're up against."_

_"I'm aware of that, Jackson, but is your trainee?"_

_"This may be my first undercover assignment, but I'm not ignorant. I've been following the cases since before I joined, and I know better than to take any target lightly."_

_"Commander, you were my trainer when I was first coming up through the ranks. You taught me almost everything I know, and most importantly, you taught me what it means to have a trainee. I don't take that responsibility lightly, and I have no intention of letting down you or this organization. I hope that means something to you."_

_"It does. Report to Requisitions at 1400 hours for equipment, and Wardrobe will be expecting you at 1600. I expect a full report on my desk by 1000 hours tomorrow morning. You are both dismissed."_

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Heavy bass pounded through the room. Glowing wall sconces cast pools of dim light along the walls as flashing strobes swept across the room with beams of purple and blue. Onstage, dancers writhed, the serpents painted on their bare skin glowing under black light even as their faces were hidden by shadows.

Jackson tugged on the lead he held in one hand, signaling his partner to follow him into the room. It wasn't his first time inside The Lotus Fang, but it was one of his first times inside while it was full, and his first time inside as a member of the crowd.

It was also his first time bringing someone else. It was one thing to be up on the stage drawing the audience in with a performance to remember; it was another to be on the floor holding a lead attached to the collar of a partner, and an untried partner at that. They both had a role to play, but at the end of the night, whether they lived or died would be on him.

He wiped his hands on his pants before sweaty palms gave him away. It wasn't overly successful; the tight leather was designed for looks, not utility. "Follow me," he ordered. "Second sconce left of the stage. Looks like an empty chair."

"Yes, Sir," Lee replied. So far so good. He was playing the part well, but it was too early to drop his guard. The night was only just beginning, and complacency killed.

The crowd closed around them as they crossed the floor. The club may have lacked space, but it certainly didn't lack people. Some gyrated in time with the music, grinding up against whoever, or whatever, they hit. Others stood motionless, transfixed by the dancers onstage. Once, he had to duck quickly to one side to avoid the back swing of a flogger aimed at a young submissive tied to a cross with ropes that glowed blood red under the lights.

His nerves were singing by the time he cleared the crowd and made it to what passed as a chair in this place. Footstool would have been more accurate, and a faded and tattered one covered in questionable stains at that, but it gave them a wall at their back and a nearly complete view of the room.

Under the guise of a caress, he brushed his lips across Lee's ear. "You have the floor. You know the target; watch for his feet."

Lee bowed his head in acknowledgment. Even in the dim light, anyone with half an eye for detail would see the way his shoulders trembled.

That wouldn't do. He was playing the part of the newest sub to a well-known and demanding dom. A sub who could not even sit properly would never have been allowed out the door by such a persona.

He squeezed the back of Lee's neck just above the padlock holding the collar closed. "What did I tell you about breathing properly, kid?" he growled. "You'd better start now, or I'll have to punish you, and you don't want that." Nevermind Lee, it was the last thing _he_ wanted. In Lee's shoes, he'd be nervous too--unarmed, stripped naked, and kneeling without good sightlines or easy maneuverability. Such a position was hell even for a seasoned veteran, but he couldn't let that show. Empathy would break their cover, and that would be the most deadly fault of all.

"I apologize, Sir. It will not happen again," Lee said. To his credit, he settled back into the correct posture. He kept his head slightly bowed, but Jackson knew his eyes would be flicking over every pair of shoes in the room, cross-referencing them with the known wardrobe of their target.

He kept his gaze higher, looking for any sign of an unexpected guest. Nathan Erickson--not the top of The Corporation's command chain, but high enough to have access to them. If they could make the right impression tonight, he would lead them right to high command.

Assuming he showed at all, of course. Intelligence had said he would make an appearance tonight, but The Corporation hadn't become the threat they were by being predictable or loose-lipped. It wouldn't be the first time they had chased their tails on a false lead. It wouldn't even be the tenth, but the current tip was the most solid they'd received anytime in recent memory. It had cost three years and as many operatives just to get someone inside the building. This was their chance to make that sacrifice worth something.

Lee bumped into his leg, startling him out of his thoughts. "Sir, passing the front desk," he hissed. "Heading toward the back of the club."

Jackson snapped his attention to Lee's signal, but his view was blocked by a crowd gathered in the center of the room.

"Losing time, Sir."

Jackson stood, racking his brain for anything that would draw the right sort of attention. Blowing their chance would be bad. Blowing their cover would be worse.

Lee beat him to it. "Cross. Punish me," he hissed before pushing away with a loud, "No!"

Heads turned as Lee went sprawling back on the floor as if he had been pushed. The force of it nearly yanked the lead from Jackson's hand and sent him stumbling forward.

He only had a split second. Then he needed a plan. Somewhere between the stumble and the recovery, he found Lee's intent. "What was that?" he bellowed, looming over the cowering figure trying to scramble away.

"I'm sorry, Sir," Lee squeaked as more heads turned to follow the commotion. In a more respectable venue, the high edge of panic in Lee's tone would have garnered at least a watchful eye, if not a gentle intervention. Here, it only drew more interest and anticipation.

"You will speak properly when you address me. I have made that clear many times, and yet you continue to fail to listen." He yanked on the lead until Lee stood. Then, he hooked an arm under Lee's and tossed him over his shoulder. "Since no amount of reminded seems to penetrate your thick skull, perhaps another sort of lesson will help the message stick."

The crowd parted in front of him, opening a clear path to the recently-vacated cross. If anyone else had already laid claim to the equipment, they seemed willing to relinquish said claim for promise of a dramatic punishment.

He dropped Lee none-too-gracefully to the ground. As Lee stumbled, he grabbed his wrists and yanked them into position along the top of the cross.

Someone in the audience held up a loop of rough rope and yelled offers of a loan. Another waved a most unpleasant-looking pair of handcuffs with spikes on the inside.

"Your offers are appreciated, but unnecessary," Jackson said with a half-bow. "I have standards that I expect to be upheld by anyone who wishes to serve me. If I give an order, it will be followed. Anyone who cannot meet even that basic requirement has no place in my company." He turned to address Lee. "Your insubordination leaves me no choice but to punish you. Ten lashes across the back. You have two choices. You will take your punishment without moving or crying out, or I have no further use for you. Which will it be?"

"I accept my punishment, Sir. My body is yours to do with as you please, Sir," Lee said, playing his part perfectly. He had brought them to this point; hopefully he was prepared for the consequences of what he had set in motion. Safewords could only go so far in a hostile environment.

More hands in the crowd held up floggers and whips of varying designs. He scanned the crowd under the guise of making a selection. A flash of blond hair across the room caught his eye. Not safe to let his eyes linger, but he knew that hairstyle. They'd accomplished their first goal then; now to put on a show that would keep the target's attention.

He selected his instrument of punishment. A dramatic handle would add to the flair, and the many tails made it look intimidating, but the material was relatively soft and without any knots or beads to add to the weight. It sat well in his hand too. He could put on a show with this, and with the right flair, no one would notice he strikes were landing more softly than advertised. He raised his arm for a practice swing.

The fitted seams of his jacket restricted his movement. He unfastened the buckles and tossed it aside over a nearby chair. If he was lucky, it would still be there later. If not, there wasn't anything incriminating in it. He rolled his shoulders again, loosening them up now that he had his full range of motion. More eyes were on him now, some drawn by the promise of pain, others looking hungrily at his bare chest. They wanted him, and they wanted to be the ones to dominate him.

He met those eyes square on, staring down the challengers before they could get any ideas. He had no plans to return here again, but that would mean nothing if he didn't make it safely out the door.

He raised his arm again, letting the tails of the flogger trail down Lee's back as his arm fell. "Who do you serve?" he asked. His spoke softly, but his voice carried into the anticipatory lull of the crowd.

"You, Sir."

"And do you have anything else to say?" he asked as he stalked around the cross, flicking the leather lightly across Lee's skin.

"No, Sir. I accept whatever punishment I have earned for my transgressions."

"A good answer. Then you shall keep count for me, and if your counting fails, or if you make any other noise, then the count will begin anew, and if you should move from where I have placed you, then you no longer answer to me. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Sir."

Jackson stepped back, measuring his range against his position. The crowd drew in a collective gasp of anticipation as he raised his arm.

"Traitor!" a man yelled from the crowd, and a sea of heads whipped in his direction.

"Do you interrupt me?" Jackson demanded.

"This man is a traitor," the man repeated. "Look at the scar under his right arm. I gave it to him myself with my knife. He's not one of us; he belongs to the Heroic Collective!"

A gasp went up across the room as Jackson cursed his own mistake. What were the odds that the man who had stabbed him a year ago would be in this room, and not only that, that he would both catch sight of the mark and claim it as his own? If he didn't act fast, the entire crowd would turn against him.

"I fear you are mistaken, and I don't appreciate the implications of your accusation," he said. "I have never laid eyes on you before, but I can tell you that scar you claim to own came not from your hand but from a piece of shrapnel. Look at my back and you will see its brethren, courtesy of some self-proclaimed heroes who would rather destroy a sculpture than acquiesce to a perfectly reasonable set of demands." Not entirely a lie. The sculpture had been real enough, and the members of The Corporation who had destroyed it in a bid to destroy him had called themselves heroes.

"Who are you going to believe?" the man demanded. "Me who's been here more nights than not for how many years now, or the newcomer who struts in with more show than sense?"

"I think we should hear more before jumping to conclusions, Marco," said a man's voice. Across the circle, Nathan stepped forward into the spotlight. "We never wish to make new guests feel unwelcome, but you have to understand there are any number of actors out there who wish us ill. How about we continue this conversation in my office."

Jackson met his eyes across the circle as he weighed his options. Antagonizing Nathan was out of the question if they had any hope of making it back out, but he didn't particularly want to find himself trapped alone with him and whoever he might summon either. "I appreciate your courtesy, but perhaps we could finish this conversation here? I don't wish to waste any of your time unnecessarily, sir."

Nathan smiled. "So you do know who I am?"

"Of course. I doubt there is anyone around here who hasn't heard the name of Nathan Erickson. It is an unexpected honor to make your acquaintance here tonight."

"If you know who I am, then you should know that my orders are always obeyed immediately. Sorry, but you used your chance. Gentlemen, bring them both to my office. I'll be there shortly; I have a call to make."

Jackson stepped forward, closer to Lee. If they had to fight their way out, better to be back-to-back from the start. Minimally armed and against a group of this size, their only hope was to stick together.

Heavy footsteps sounded behind him, but he didn't have the chance to turn before a taser struck him in the back.

He pitched forward into Lee as every muscle in his body seized. He couldn't even breathe, never mind move. He landed hard. The ground, or maybe it was a point part of Lee, hopefully nothing important, knocked the wind out of him. Hell. It had been a long time since a mission had taken such a sharp turn for the worse.

The current stopped, leaving him lying limp on the ground as he tried to remember how to move.

He didn't get a chance. Someone yanked him partially upright and tightened an arm around his neck.

The world swam out of focus before going black completely. Crap.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He came to with a pounding headache, an awful crick in his shoulder, and every muscle in his body screaming.

"Jackson? Jackson, are you alive?"

"Hmm?" he mumbled. The words were there, but his mouth didn't seem to want to make the sounds.

"You're awake. I was starting to worry. Didn't think they'd bother tying you up if they'd killed you, but you never know."

Jackson flexed an arm experimentally. He couldn't move an inch before the ropes cut painfully into his bicep. Now that Lee had mentioned it, he felt to burn of too tight rope on top of the other aches and pains. He was bent over and bound to what seemed to be some sort of furniture. Not a good sign, but nothing he could do about it just now.

"Are you bound too?"

"Yes. To a chair. I think they thought you were the bigger threat, like usual. Once they got you off of me, a couple of them picked me up and tossed me in here. I should have fought harder."

"You'd be dead. Tell me whatever you can about our current situation, and when they come back, let me do the talking. I can't say I'm overly impressed by their welcome here. My expectations have been sorely disappointed, and I don't intend to grace them with our patronage again. Oh, and one more thing, I don't want to hear a word out of your mouth unless it's absolutely necessary. Understood?"

"Sure. Okay."

"Is that how I trained you to speak around me? I may be incapacitated at the moment, but that doesn't mean I won't be keeping count of infractions for later."

"I'm sorry?" Lee began, then cut himself off as he caught up. "I understand, Sir," he said.

"Good." This would be the real test. If Lee, if either of them, messed up, they were dead. Even if they kept to their cover story perfectly, there was still a good chance they'd end up dead. Assuming their cover hadn't already been blown, which was also a big assumption. Really, unless they got incredibly lucky, the chances they made it out alive were not looking good. Hell of a first test for Lee.

"They brought us down the stairs in the back of the club. I assume we are still in the basement since I did not see any windows in here. If there are any, they might be boarded up. They turned off the lights when they left though, so I cannot confirm currently."

"Keep your eyes closed," Jackson ordered. "If they turn the lights on suddenly, it'll be like ripping off a blindfold. You'll blind yourself temporarily."

"Understood, Sir. Thank you, sir. Once they brought us in here, they bound me to this chair, and you to...whatever you are on, sir."

"Describe it."

"Umm...kind of like a sawhorse, I guess, if a sawhorse were a bit shorter and possibly padded on top. I did not have that long to look, but this does not seem like an office to me, sir."

"Me either, and that's going onto my list of complaints for the management. Speaking of which, I think we're about to have company. Remember, not a word out of your mouth if you can avoid it, or you'll pay for it later."

"Yes, sir," Lee said as a key turned in the lock.

Jackson squeezed his eyes shut, and a second later, the lights in the room snapped on to full brightness. He opened his eyes slowly, not that he could see much from his current vantage point. He could hear though. One set of sharp heels that almost certainly belonged to Nathan and his signature boots, and at least two sets of heavy treads, possibly the same security brutes as before.

"Jackson Brooks and Lee Zhang, both longstanding members of the Heroic Coalition," Nathan said without preamble. "Not who we expected to appear in our midst tonight, but who are we to turn down such a gift?"

"I believe you must have mistaken us for someone else," Jackson countered. "We are newcomers to the city, and both you and this club were highly recommended to us by more than one source along our way. I must say, if this is the welcome you give to all new guests, then I can see why your membership remains quite small. I for one will certainly not be recommending the experience to anyone else."

"When we're done with you, you won't be recommending anything to anyone."

"Now now, no need to be so aggressive," Jackson said, keeping his tone even despite his heart pounding in his ears. "If I were a less generous person, I'd say that sounded like a threat. What ever happened to 'How about we continue this conversation in my office'? If the rumors are to be believed, then you are at most a single step down from the manager of this club. If this _cell_ is what passes for your office, then this club is even more pathetic than I could have imagined. And what about what-was-his-name...Marcus? Are you just taking him at his word?"

"Attitude. Attitude. Attitude. Weren't you the one telling your sub to watch his mouth just a few minutes ago? Don't worry about Marco; we're taking care of him too, but that's none of your concern. Gentlemen, I leave these two in your capable hands. You know what to do. High Command should be here before dawn, and I want to at least show them our newest acquisitions even if they aren't ready for use. You know our current collection is starting to show its wear."

One set of heels strode out of the room. The door closed, and the lock turned.

A low voice chuckled behind him. "Just you and us, boys, and no one coming this way. Oh, and Mister Nathan locked us in, so even if you manage to kill us, you're not getting out. Isn't that great? So how about we have some fun."

"Your hospitality leaves something to be desired," Jackson spat. "Don't think I'll forget this."

"Forget? Oh no, this is only a warmup. A taste of things to come, if you will. Once we're done with you, you'll be handed over to be the new playthings for High Command and their VIPs, and you'll look back on this time fondly. But enough talk, let's get started and see what you can do."

He had no warning before rough hands yanked down his pants. If they ever got out of here, he'd have to explain to the wardrobe mistress how he ruined a brand new pair of leather pants.

"So, which one of you will it be?" the man growled. "You, or him?"

An easy question. Only one answer there. "Me. He answers to me, but that means I must bear the consequences of his actions."

"Wrong answer. Try again! The answer's both!" The man cackled, sending a chill up Jackson's spine. That sort of enjoyment was never a good sign.

The same rough hands digging into his hips were his only warning before the man thrust inside him. He bit back a yell as the force of it drove his pelvis into the corner of the furniture. It was just as well he was bound to it; it kept him from dumping them both on the floor as his legs gave out. The dull ache in the front of his body balanced out the burning of too much too fast in his ass.

Maybe whatever he was bound to would be less uncomfortable if he stopped being a sack of potatoes to be tossed around at will, but everything already ached, and that sounded like more energy than he had to spare. Plus, if he made no effort to engage with it, then it was easier to ignore the fact he was currently being raped. Out of sight, out of mind, or something like that. His face slid back and forth against the wood with each thrust. It would be scraped raw at this rate, but at least the surface was polished enough not to be leaving splinters.

Lee gagging behind him caught his attention. He recognized the sound of someone trying, and failing, to figure out oral on the fly. He winced in sympathy. He'd be sore tomorrow too.

"Not so tough now, are we?" one of the men asked. "You're all like this. All tough and bluster when you think you're on top, but as soon as you're challenged for real, all that hot air blows right out."

"Don't talk about what you don't understand!" Lee coughed. "I'm tougher than you could ever imagine."

"Hmm, what do you think?" the other man said. "Subs aren't supposed to talk back, are they? Think we should punish him?"

"Nah," the other man replied. "Not his fault he wasn't trained properly. Punish this one. That should teach him."

"No!" Lee yelled, and Jackson wished there were an easy way to signal him to shut up. He'd take whatever punishment came at him, but he'd rather the hole not get dug any deeper already.

"No? No what?" one of the men asked. "You won't learn your lesson that way? I think you will eventually, just a question of how much we take out of your dom's hide before you do. Don't worry, if some miracle occurs and he manages to get free, he can take it out of yours himself later. Now let's see, think he could take both of us at once?"

"No way," the other man said. "I'm not putting my dick anywhere near those teeth of his, and I'm not sharing a hole with you, you greedy pig."

"Spoilsport. Hey, give me your nightstick. Think he can take that?"

"It's hardly bigger than your dick, but I'll bet he cries like a baby anyway on principal."

Jackson sighed. He'd taken worse, but 'possible' didn't mean it would be at all pleasant or enjoyable. If he was lucky, and if Lee kept his mouth shut, the men would lose interest soon enough. These types were all the same--only interested when they could get a reaction out of their victims. In a way, they were the easier ones to deal with.

The man behind him withdrew abruptly, but his respite lasted only a second before something hard and improperly prepared thrust inside him. He bit back another cry as the butt of the nightstick dragged inside him. He was going to hurt later.

He forced himself to let go of that thought. Later was later. Now he simply was; whatever happened to him happened. He was not involved, and he didn't need to concern himself with it. His body continued pounding into the furniture, but he focused his mind in on his breathing. Steady inhale and exhale that kept an even rhythm with the heartbeat still pounding in his head.

"I don't hear him saying anything," the man across the room said. "Either he's playing tough, or you broke him already."

"Nah, not broken, just docile. You know High Command likes 'em better that way anyway. You want a go?"

"No fun if they aren't begging. Can I try this one, and if he's no fun either, then we call it a night. Bet High Command will love their new toys when they get their hands on them. Been awhile since we got any pretty ones like these."

The nightstick yanked out of Jackson abruptly, leaving him limp and spent over the sawhorse. He heard clattering across the room. They were going for Lee then. Poor Lee, who had ended up in over his head through no fault of his own. If he'd been paying attention, he'd know how to lose their interest. Though of course knowing and doing were two different things, especially under duress. Still, for his own sake, hopefully he would manage.

He heard the sharp intake of breath behind him. He'd trained with Lee enough, been in the field with him enough, to know the sound of a yell cut short when he heard it, but he doubted either of the thugs would pick up on such a subtlety. It hurt to hear Lee suffering behind him when he couldn't help, but he couldn't tune it out either. If he had to, he would draw the attention back to himself. His trainer had done it for him once, and he would do the same. Fate willing it wouldn't come to that though, he might be a hero, but he was only human, and his body could only take so much.

"This one's no fun either," one of the guards announced at last. "Come on, go tell them to let us out of here, and we'll go tell Nathan he's got two new domesticated toys for High Command. Bet that'll put him in a good mood. He's always looking for a chance to kiss up to the brass."

The guards stomped over to the door, and a minute later, the lock opened. "Enjoy your break. It's the last one you'll be getting for a long time," one of them said before the door closed and the lights clicked off, plunging them back into darkness.

Jackson waited a few breaths to be sure they were alone before he spoke. "Lee?" he asked quietly.

"I'm sorry," Lee whispered, his voice trembling in the darkness. "I messed up."

"Not your fault," Jackson said firmly. Some trains of thought were best cut off immediately.

"It is though. If I hadn't drawn attention to us, then this never would have happened."

"And we may have missed our chance for our target too. By that logic, the fault is equally mine, since we wouldn't have been found out if I hadn't taken off my jacket. That's bullshit. The only fault here lies with the ones who did this to us. How are you?"

"They tipped over the chair when they...when they..." Lee faltered. "It won't be pretty, but I think I can make it over to you."

"Are your hands free?"

"No. They're tied behind the chair. I might be able to get them loose; I don't think the guy doing the tying was paying much attention."

"Then focus your energy there. You'll do more good that way."

"Sorry, I wasn't thinking clearly."

"That's entirely understandable," Jackson said. Understatement of the night.

"I should have been," Lee protested. "You're beat up worse than I am, and you're still the one with the plans."

"You'll get there too with time. You can only learn so much in training."

"I shouldn't have said anything. They...with the nightstick...it hurt so bad I thought I was going to rip in half, and they did that to you because I talked back at them. They…they did...and it's my fault."

"No," Jackson cut in. "They made the choice to rape us. They enjoyed it. That's entirely on them. You are not responsible. I am not responsible. Hold onto that, and see if you can get your hands free. It's the best chance we have right now."

"Does it ever get easier?"

"No," Jackson admitted, "but you learn to deal with it. Can't feel guilty if you're dead."

"And I'd rather not end up dead, so I'd better get to work."

"Something like that. Let me know if you make any progress."

The minutes ticked by with nothing to mark them except the occasional scuffing against the floor and focused breathing of someone intent on solving a puzzle.

"I think I got it!" Lee finally hissed just as Jackson heard new footsteps pounding down the hall.

"Stay where you are," Jackson ordered. "Don't let them know you're free unless you have to."

"Understood."

The silence grew almost painful as the footsteps drew nearer. Their odds weren't good, especially not with the number of boots approaching, but they were better than they'd been a minute ago. Sometimes, that had to be good enough.

He'd been expecting the door to burst open, or maybe for the movement to pause just long enough for a key to turn. He hadn't been expecting a knock on the door, especially not a knock in a familiar pattern.

"We're in here," Lee yelled.

"Stand back," someone shouted from the other side of the door. A second later, the door grated against its hinges and crashed open. Flashlights swept across the room.

"Someone find the lights."

"Switch by the door," Lee said.

"Lights turning on," someone warned, and Jackson closed his eyes just in time.

"Get them out of here," a familiar voice ordered.

"Commander?" Jackson asked. He didn't think he'd hit his head, but he had to be hallucinating.

"I'll expect a full report later, Jackson, but for now, we're getting you out of here. Nathan Erickson and several members of the High Command of The Corporation are now in custody thanks to your work. Can you walk?" the commander asked as he cut the ropes that had held Jackson in place.

"In a minute, sir," Jackson replied as returning circulation sent pins and needles lancing down his limbs.

"No time," the commander replied. "I'll carry you. We don't know how long our distraction will last."

"I'll be fine," Jackson began, but when he tried to stand, the world spun around him, and he nearly pitched right back over before the commander caught him.

"You'll be fine once Medical looks you over and signs off on it. Until then, you're relieved from duty. Understood?"

"Understood, Commander. How did you find us?"

"I noticed the guards had some sort of radio," Lee answered. "I knew people would be looking for us when we didn't check in, so I turned one on when they were moving me and hoped for the best."

"You couldn't have set a better tracking beacon if you tried, Operative," the commander said. "Signal came through loud and clear, and we had a team moving as soon as we figured out what was happening. Good work all around."

"Thank you, sir," Jackson said as he was dumped into the back of the van. It was a bittersweet victory though. They'd finally caught their target, and so far as he knew, without any loss of their own, but that didn't make him any less sore now, especially now that the adrenaline was wearing off. Didn't make him dread Medical any less either. Knowing the process didn't make it any easier, no matter if it was the first time or the third.

At least the commander had the decency to leave them alone after he saw them safely to Medical. The curtain pulled between the two beds gave some modicum of privacy, but not much all things considered. Under the harsh fluorescent lights, he could see how much of a mess he was. The skin on his wrists was pink and oozing where it had been torn by the ropes, and rising bruises left shadows on his dark skin. He was sure he looked worse from the back. He didn't want to know.

"Jackson?" Lee asked from the other side of the curtain. "You there?"

"I'm here."

"What happens now? I've never been to Medical for...this sort of thing."

It was only the desire not to offend that kept him from sighing. Of all the conversations he didn't want to have right now, this was near the top, but Lee deserved to know. His trainer had explained it to him the first time, and he'd been grateful for the warning. He could do the same.

"Medical will want your report of what happened. Then they'll check you over and do whatever they need to do to make sure you're safe. I won't lie to you; it's going to be hell. They'll want to swab everything, and it'll hurt worse now that the adrenaline's worn off, and the things they need to do to see clearly will make it feel like you're being raped all over again. They'll try to be gentle, even though it won't feel that way, and they'll understand if you cry, or scream, or curse them to the moon and back, but they won't sign off until they're sure you're okay. Sometimes, the best thing you can do is let your mind go somewhere else until they're done. Then go home, lock your door, take a hot shower until you feel clean, and go to bed with the light on. You won't magically be 100% tomorrow, but you'll get there."

"Is it okay to be scared?" Lee asked quietly.

"Always. Whatever you're feeling, whether it's tonight, tomorrow, or next week, is valid. Remember that, and don't ever let someone convince you otherwise. There's a lot of well-meaning bad advice out there, and most of it starts there."

"Thanks, Jackson. Maybe it's twisted, but I'm glad you're here. All I kept thinking tonight was that you weren't panicking, which meant things weren't completely hopeless, which mean I shouldn't panic either. It helped me hold it together."

He didn't know what to say to that.

He was saved from having to answer by the connecting door sliding open.

"Evening, gentlemen," a nurse said as he wheeled in a cart. "Though maybe it's a bit late for that. Unfortunately, we only keep one person on site after midnight unless there's a big operation going down, so you're going to have to take turns. Which one of you am I looking at first?"

"Me," Jackson volunteered. "He's new."

"Sorry to make your acquaintance under these circumstances then. I'm Leon by the way. Are you okay staying here, Jackson? We can also move you to another room for more privacy."

"This is fine. Would you mind talking through it for my partner so he knows what to expect? Lee, you can open the curtain if you want to watch."

"If you don't mind..." Lee said hesitantly.

Leon had no such qualms, whipping the curtain open and setting himself up to leave Lee an unobstructed view.

Jackson gritted his teeth and thought about anything else as he had blood and urine samples drawn and his chest covered in sticky pads to monitor his heart for ill effects from the taser. He hissed as his wrists and cheek were washed with stinging antiseptic and wrapped in fresh bandages and his stomach was covered in cold gel for an ultrasound to check for internal bleeding. It was the thought of Lee lying next to him terrified and watching with wide eyes that kept him from crying out as his legs were put up in stirrups and he was pried open for inspection.

Finally, it ended, and he could collapse back against the pillow to catch his breath. He needed to stay for a few more hours of monitoring, but then he'd be free to leave with a few prescriptions to pick up on his way home. It took all of the remaining energy he had, but he dragged himself out of his bed and into the adjacent chair to take Lee's hand.

He murmured reassurances as Lee choked on a swab in his throat and let his fingers be crushed as Lee yelled as he was spread open. Finally, as Jackson was beginning to worry his stamina wouldn't last, Lee was declared fit to go home. It took several more reassurances to convince Lee to leave without waiting for him, and then another embarrassing minute of being helped back into his own bed, but finally, he was completely alone.

No one was watching any more. He didn't have to hold it together any longer. The entire night--the fear, the pain, the humiliation--hit him in a crushing wave. He turned the unbandaged side of his face into the pillow and let the tears fall.

A knock on the door startled him, and he turned farther away as the commander entered and sat in the empty chair.

"How did you do it?" Jackson asked.

"The same way you did. You made me proud tonight."

"I was terrified I'd mess up. That I'd get us both killed, or worse, that I'd say the wrong thing, and Lee would break."

"It didn't show," the commander said. "I have his report, and he has nothing but the highest praise for how you comported yourself."

"He blames himself for what happened. I don't know how to convince him otherwise."

"As a trainer, all you can do is set an example and try to guide your trainee in the right direction. At the end of the day, they have to be the one making the decision. You're teaching them to think for themselves; if you try to make their choices for them, you're doing them a disservice in the end."

"I never saw you flinch," Jackson said.

"The night after your first field mission, the one with with the Corporation field office in Carlton that went south--"

"They had a sniper we didn't know about, and I ended up with a bullet in my shoulder and a knife in my ribs. You were there when I passed out, and you were there again when I woke up in the hospital."

"And once the drugs had taken you out again, and they said you'd sleep at least until the morning, I went home and was sicker than I'd ever been before. And then I called my trainer, and she came over and sat with me until the sun rose."

"I never knew," Jackson admitted.

"That was the goal. When everything is going wrong around you for the first time, and you're terrified you're about to die, you need something to hold onto to keep fighting. Our role as trainers is to be that hope and that will until our trainees find it in themselves."

"Thank you, Commander," Jackson said quietly.

The door slid opening, making him jump and setting off new aches across his body.

Lee stood in the doorway looking uncertain. "I didn't mean to interrupt, but I picked up your prescriptions from the pharmacy. I thought it would save you the trip. Sorry, I'll go now."

"How much did you overhear?" the commander asked, and Jackson wanted to disappear into the floor.

"Only a little. I wasn't trying to eavesdrop, but it sounded like an important conversation, and I didn't want to interrupt. I know it doesn't excuse it, but hearing what you said? It helped. I was terrified, but so were you, and that makes me feel less bad about it. Sorry, I didn't mean to babble. I'll just leave your prescription here and leave you alone."

"Lee," Jackson called before his partner could close the door. "You're still new, but you thought on your feet better than some veteran heroes of the Collective tonight. Don't forget you're the one who led help to us. I couldn't ask for more in a partner. Now go home, get some rest, and I'll see you at the debrief tomorrow. And remember, just because the mission ends doesn't mean it's over for us. That's normal."

"The same goes for you," Lee replied. "I couldn't ask for a better trainer, but under it, you're human too."

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't resist this chance to write undercover buddies in a mission gone wrong. I hope this exchange has brought you good fic.


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